


Canine Head-Case

by Prototype



Series: The Magenta Universe [3]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, Gore, M/M, Military, Supernatural - Freeform, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1439443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prototype/pseuds/Prototype
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The third instalment in the Magenta Series, the final chapter in the twisted and devoted story of Magenta and Mikey. Accompanied by Ray, her three carnivorous cubs and her embittered brother in law Gerard, the vicious she wolf will stop at nothing - and no one - to bring her bloody family back together. It all ends in tears, blood and desperation. </p>
<p>Build your army.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_“It’s ok, Mags, it’s over, it’s all ok,” I whispered, stroking her hair, holding her close, tight. I never felt so happy to be close to her._

_“No Mikey, it can’t be!” she moaned, crying, choking on her tears. She broke away and looked at me with those black and red jagged eyes. They made me shiver to the core – they thrilled me. “Look at the moon, Mikey! It’s the new moon tonight! I wasn’t meant to change! I’m losing it, Mikey! I’m becoming an animal!”_

I’m becoming an animal.

That’s what she told me, that day she broke all the rules. I wish I’d known more back then – about her, about us, about everything to do with her kind. I wish I’d known I was going to become one of her kind, and I wish, more than anything, I’d told her what I truly believe now.

It’s better to be an animal in human skin than a human in animal fur.

It’s better to be a hunter, a tracker, a killer with the skin of a wolf than the hands of a man.

It’s easier to be a monster when you are one.

A savage paw swung around in an arch, my whole body spiralling in the air as my claws connected with soft flesh, piercing through skin and muscle and jutting on bone. A brief howl as blood soaked my arm and we rolled, my body crushing his beneath enormous back legs and shoulders decked in tawny gold fur. My teeth latched around his throat, talons slicing open a delicious new palette of smells to make my gums water, and I tore.

The other werewolf’s head rolled across the ring, slumping to a rest, the smudges of blood painting the floor a new colour.

I stood up, dropping the useless carcass at my feet and cupping my paws in the cavity of ribs, blood and organs – cupping blood and smearing it down my face, drinking it with my lapping tongue.

The screams and chants of the crowd made my blood boil with power.

I lifted my arms high and felt the lights of the Ring bear down on me. A hunter. A killer.

A monster. 

 


	2. II

**Magenta**

 

“I AM NO MONSTER!” I screamed, flipping my hair over my shoulder and slamming my foot into the stomach of an attacking twat monkey. I jumped off the floor where I’d been flattened to, and dropped down, hands ready to fight back.  Someone rushed me, and I deftly flipped them over my shoulder – crying out a battle roar.

“Yes, you are, you’ve yet to master this power,”

That voice was beginning to drive me insane – so calm, so fucking smug. I could feel the rage inside me building, and I let it bubble, punching someone so hard it the face their nose cracked under my knuckles.

It didn’t matter who rushed me, how they attacked, how often I kicked, punched, bit, scratched, slammed or head butted – they kept fucking coming! My hands were covered in blood, my limbs aching with effort to keep my defences up. Someone grabbed me around my stomach, arms crushing me and I howled, stabbing at them with my nails, twisting until I was able to crack the back of my skull into their face, flooring them. I jumped up and slammed a foot down on his ribcage, feeling it crack under me.

“FUCK OFF!” I yelled, indignant as he groaned. He wore black jeans, a black t shirt and a mask to cover his face. They were all faceless and strong – all bigger than me.

“That’s right, feel the beast in you consume you,”

I hissed, slamming my elbow into someone’s stomach and kicking him away from the ring, dodging a punch from one guy and feeling my ankles being chopped – the floor coming up to meet my face again.

“I’M NOT A BEAST!”

“Yes, you are, embrace it,”

I growled, feeling my muscles shake with exhaustion and my blood boil. I felt a tremor of excitement pass through my skin – ice like needles spiking.

“You’re really starting to piss me off,” I hissed, narrowing my fierce eyes at the man running towards me now, his fists ready to pummel me. I jumped, pouncing, slamming him down in his stride and slashing at his throat. I swore loudly – my bones suddenly cracking. Skin snapped uselessly as my entire body swelled with muscle, blood flying off me and dotting the men around me.

I changed so fast some of them didn’t have time to twist away from me.

Claws sliced through flesh and teeth snapped spinal cords as the beast I was flew through fetid air, devouring anything alive in sight. The voice, that infuriating voice, continued to speak – encouraging me, congratulating me. Pissing me off. Patronising arsehole!

My eyes glowed blood red and whirled excitedly as I stood still, finally. The minutes between my successful change and this very second had been frenzied, bloodied…exhilarating. My fur was saturated with thick, heavy blood – the air filled with the scent of carnage. My claws were matted with hair and skin. My mouth salivated with hunger, my stomach growling.

I was a mess, at least my girl skin was. Beaten, bruised, cut skin with deep infections, broken bones, chipped teeth, black eyes…I was physically driven to the brink of insanity. I had to sit and bear the beatings – taking every ounce of pain handed to me. I had to let the rage simmer and build and consume me.

I had to become a volcano inside before I was allowed to release, attack and defend myself. I had to embody rage before I could become something more than I was.

I was a fighter. A warrior. A killer.

And now I had mastered my killer instincts, taken a level of control I had once told my lover I was losing – now was the ultimate test. To stay in my girl skin and stay in control as the full moon rose.

It wasn’t hard to shed my wolf skin, the sun making it itch on my back as I fought to become human again. Naked, weeping blood and gasping for air, I threw my hair back and raised my hands.

“YYYYYARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!”

 The echo agreed with my triumphant roar – the men now gone for fear of death, or just dead. I slumped forward, dragging in cold air to clam the screaming in my ears.

I looked up – the scream wasn’t just my pulse in my ears. The pen in the side of the room, the door wide open, pounded out squeals.

I was on my feet and running to it before the thought was coherent inside my skull. A mother knows the cry of her children.

“Ooo, babies,” I crooned softly, smug in the knowledge the men all knew not to think this soft side of mine went beyond my family pack. There were three of them, two girls and one boy – and all my gorgeous little pups. I refused to be parted from them for too long, or too far away either.

Callisto and Artimizia were the girls, called for short Callie and Art. The boy was unnamed. Wolf culture – the mother names the girls. The father names the boys.

My son would remain nameless until his father and my mate was back in our protection. That was why I was here – training, honing, learning to be the ultimate fighter beyond the rules of science and even wolf-lore. I would steal him back.

One way or another.

 


	3. III

**Gerard**  

9 and a half months after Magenta’s departure.

 

 

Frank and I slipped through the streets as quickly as we could, keeping our heads down. The bags of shopping bounced against our legs as we weaved through the Saturday morning crowds of shoppers and errand-runners. We knew we weren’t in danger, but the habit had become routine.

Ever since their honeymoon, Magenta and Mikey had pretty much vanished. They drove up into the mountains so Magenta, that psychotic friend of mine, could do her wicked fangy thing with him and ‘make the puppies’ as Frank called it, and they never properly came back. At first, we just smirked and joked about it easily – let the newly weds have their fun, not expecting to see them for weeks.

We’d began to panic when their van was returned to their home within a few days of their honeymoon, and as the days ticked off with no response to our efforts to reach them - blind panic. With no way to contact them left, or any idea where they’d really gone – we just had to wait. And panic.

I’ll always remember how bizarre it was when I came down to breakfast one morning to find Magenta sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. At first I hadn’t really seen her, it seemed to naturally surreal to have a missing person who also happened to be my sister in law and one of my best friends sitting at my table, I walked straight by her and went to the fridge.

It was when I reached for the milk that I clicked that the person angrily glaring at the newsprint with the waist long dreadlocks and the pheromone smell of predator _wasn’t_  my boyfriend.

In the few minutes it took for me and her to reunite, I found out two very important facts.

One, Mikey had been kidnapped by a military based illegal werewolf boxing ring with which he’d made a deal to save Magenta’s freedom from the Hairy Helpers, a cover group of werewolf worshippers who’d gone a bit crazy and bite-happy with the whole siring idea.

Two, Mags was pregnant and thoroughly irritated with the whole idea.

We spent the rest of the morning filling her in on Desperate Housewives.

In the weeks that followed, the household was mental. Werewolf pregnancies were only nine weeks long – meaning Magenta grew at an alarming rate and her needs were the same as an uncomfortable pregnant woman – only nine times as concentrated. The wolf part of her was insatiable, meaning we were constantly buying raw meat for her to eat, as well as gallons of blood to quench her thirst for it. Her hunting instinct was fierce, she had to be restrained at night to stop her from killing anyone. She drank her weight in whiskey and vodka, to ease the pain of fighting the wolf inside her, and the pain of the cubs inside her scratching her insides. It was a hard, long eight weeks before she finally went into labour and gave birth to three of the most adorable children I’ve ever seen in my life.

She refused to go the hospital, so Frank and I had, once again, been forced to roll up our sleeves and help her with the icky side of being a werewolf. I remembered, as I delivered her first born son, how I used to sew up her cuts and wounds from the full moon that she had inflicted on her own – a practise I’d been repeating for months now after every full moon, alongside Mikey. I also remembered how Frank would insert those bloody silver balls in her side on the first night of full moon to ‘calm’ her down and make her less likely to kill us rather than herself.

Magenta was a handful, to say the least. But, holding her cleaned children in my arms, and then looking over at her exhausted, sweating face – lit up with that satisfied smile of a mother…I knew why Frank, and Ray and I all loved her. And why Mikey loved her too.

This girl was more than just an animal or a girl – she was a protector, she was a pack leader. And she would die for any of us. And kill a hell lot more people than that first.

Following the birth, Magenta was a different woman. She spent every single minute of the day in her nest with those three cubs, guarding them, feeding them and soothing them. Frank lavished attention upon them like he was the father – bringing food and milk and more drapes to strengthen the nest. We all did – we cared for that family like a pack should. It was only after the cubs were two weeks old, and already moving around the nest and acting like Pure Blood pups that Magenta laid down real hard facts for us, facts she’d kept from us for weeks.

We were being watched, carefully monitored. That’s why she wouldn’t let any of us look for Mikey – she was protecting us in her own skewed way. I had been so angry at her when she told us. Then she explained her plan. She was leaving us, again. She was taking her children and she was going back to Canada to find the Canadian werewolf clan Mikey had told her about – she was going to conquer the beast and find a way to beat the soldiers.

In the weeks of her pregnancy, she wanted us to be as normal as we were, so the soldiers watching would know our patterns and quirks as well as she did. Once they could anticipate us, we could play that strength to get Mikey back. 

And she promised we would get him back. I’ve never seen her eyes do what they did when they promised that – they burnt. Two bands of colours, blood red and gold…two bands of jagged colour spiking the deep black of her eyes. She looked so determined, we all agreed instantly.

She was gone the next day when Frank and I woke up. Her nest was empty, her flat left exactly the way it was. She’d slipped out through the basement exit in the sewers, slipping out of the city with her three children with her. She’d thought about leaving them, but her mothering instinct was so strong she couldn’t leave them behind. I don’t think Frank and I could have handled them at full moon anyway. She’d told us what she wanted us to do, and we set to do as soon as we realised she’d gone.

We were going to infiltrate and learn everything we could about the base Mikey was held in. That’s where Ray became our savoir, his computer skills and his know how. Frank and I became guinea pigs and distractions, but Ray became the real brains of our operation. A while ago he managed to score us entry into the Ring membership waiting list and eventually we’d received our entry cards and codes. Now we were in – Frank and I had been to the Ring just once, to see the carnage of the full moon fights. It was…brutal.

We didn’t get to see Mikey fight, but we heard the stories. On the inside, we managed to sneak in Toro’s handiwork so we got the CTV camera feeds into our flat. Everything was ready – waiting for Magenta to come back. Now, on the outside of the flat, we kept our heads down. If they looked too hard, they’d figure us out instantly.

As soon as we were inside the building, Frank dropped his shopping bags and sighed heavily, brushing his hair back off his face.

“Jesus, how long is this going to go on? I feel like a convict,” he moaned, reaching over to cup my face and kiss me. I could feel the shaking in his hand. I smiled softly, flicking my hair out of my eyes.

“It’s ok, baby, Mags won’t leave Mikey out there for too long,” I told him, something he knew himself. “She’ll be back as soon as she can and this’ll all be over,”

He groaned. “I know…I know…I just kinda miss being able to go outside without keeping my face mostly covered,” he sighed. I grinned.

“Relax – when this is over, I’ll take you back to that park we first kissed in and buy you an ice cream,”

Frank’s face lit up, his grin making his eyes shine. I loved it when he grinned. “Seriously?!”

He didn’t let me reply, jumping back onto me in the flurry of kisses, grinning his head off as he stole my breath. The kiss began to get rather heated, Frank’s grateful little moans turning me on until I dropped my shopping bags and grabbed him back – pushing him against the wall of the staircase.

“Keep it clean, boys, there’re children present,”

“MAGENTA!” yelled Frank, almost biting my lip. We both jumped, our eyes flicking straight to her. She looked just as amazing and gorgeous and hostile as ever – wearing her black leather jacket and tight demin jeans. Her hair was pulled back and wound into an enormous rope of twisted hair. Her kids were even cuter than when she’d left 4 months earlier.

I’ll never get over how fast those brats grew – the unnamed boy was standing by her leg, his clawed hands clinging to her knee and his cute little dimpled smile shining through the pacifier in his mouth. She had Callisto, the little blonder one on her back, her arms clinging to her neck and giggling at us, whilst she held Art who was half asleep and curled in her own brown locks. But it was Magenta that was most different – her face stronger and more lined, her eyes wilder but at the same time…more controlled, more mature. She looked far more confident and driven than I’d ever seen her. She looked like a mother, but of more than just her children.

She looked ready to protect all of us.


	4. IV

**Gerard**

 

“So what happened?” asked Frank when we’d all sealed ourselves inside the flat and drawn the curtains. In the semi darkness, Magenta’s eyes glowed and her proud smile shone through. The kids were in the living room, Art asleep on the couch and the others beating each other up with whatever they could reach – they were fine. Trust us. “We want to hear everything,” he said, pouring her an enormous cup of coffee.

She grinned gratefully, sipping it and flicking her pierced eyebrows. “Jesus, everything?”

My lover grinned, going to still on the corner of the kitchen table, close to her. Frank adored Mags and her family like her little brother, whenever she was near he gravitated towards her. It was like one big fucked up family because I felt like her big brother and I was fucking the younger one…hmm…anyway!

Mags sighed heavily and leant back, decided where to start.

“I hate shitting outdoors,”

There was a short silence.

“Thanks for that,”

She grinned. “No problem,”

I stepped forward from where I’d been leaning to keep an eye on her brats and planted myself opposite her, stealing her coffee.

“Come on, Mags, tell us – the sooner you do, the sooner we can crack on getting Mikey home,”

“Good point – how’s he doing by the way?”

I could hear the fear in her voice, the fear he’d been killed while she’d been away.

“Relax, he’s fine, he’s a lot more…scary than you may remember, but he’s alive and kicking and he’s hugely popular. Every time we go to the ring to watch, the crowds ridiculous,”

Magenta snorted into the hot coffee in shock, burning herself. “What?! You’ve been going to see him?!”

We both frowned, nodding. “Yeah, you told us to keep an eye on him, remember?”

“I didn’t mean throw yourselves into the lions den! What if they’d recognised you? You’d been wolf meat in minutes!”

I chuckled. “Dear Lord, Magenta Way, are you showing concern for your pack’s safety?”

She snorted again, this time dismissively. “Hell no. I’ll just be pissed off if you guys get killed, I need your help to get Mikey out,”

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?”

She smirked. “Shut it,”

Frank slapped the table impatiently. “Come on, tell us! I wanna know what you did, what happened, everything!”

Mags sighed, preparing to tell us. Her eyes shifted to check her kids were all still ok, before she began to tell us the story.

“The Canadian werewolf clan is pretty much…I wouldn’t say extinct, but there are very few werewolfs in the fold I was with. The clan was more like a secluded, off limits town. There were about twenty Pure Bloods, and then their partners and children, as well as humans – just friends and family and stuff, y know? It was like a military base, they had cameras and sensors all around it, and guards with guns and all sorts – it was so cut off… but it was military, I made sure before I let them catch me.”

“Catch you?”

“The place didn’t have a front door. I spent a few days skulking before I decided it was a safe thing, and the real deal,”

“And then you let them catch you and the kids?”

She nodded. “Turns out they knew I was on my way ever since I crossed the border from America and they had me on heat sensor the entire time. They were just letting me come to them,”

“Fuck,”

“Yeah…anyway, it was a nice place, the wolves were really nice and when I was working, the other women looked after the brats. The myths and shit are all true, it turns out. It’s so weird up there, everyone dressed in black and camo but they sound like hippies – talking about moon cycles and the sun and charms and all that stuff, and so many of the younger ones were like me – with dreadlocks and dyed hair and piercings and all that…it was pretty cool actually, I might take Mikey there for a holiday,” she giggled.

Frank giggled, but I covered his hand before he could chase the subject.

“You said you were working, what do you mean?”

She sighed heavily, drinking more coffee. “Jesus I’m tired…ok, basically, there’s a training place, a big empty brick bunker thing – sorta like a dojo. I met with some of the older werewolves, these weird wise wackos – the white hair, half blind, scarred, the whole deal. They were so cool, but totally evil. Once I explained why I was there and about Mikey, and also about that incident on the new moon when I changed, they agreed to train me,”

“Just like that?”

“They weren’t interested until I told them I overcame the human on the only night we’re not meant to – they seemed…I dunno, scared, excited, they treated me like an equal…until, of course, the training started. It was pretty brutal actually, the first part was all physical – weights and running laps and swimming against currents and stuff. I had to master my anger first –“

“Did you really just use the phrase ‘master you anger’?”

“Shut up, their words, not mine,”

“This is so Kill Bill 2,”

“I know. Anyway, to master this so called ‘overwhelming rage’ I had, I had to let myself be beaten to shreds…seriously, I took so much shit over the first month or so -  I let them fucking murder me every day for hours, and I couldn’t react. No matter what they said, did, nothing. Even outside of the compound, people insulted me, ruined my meals, wrecked my sleep, basically bullied me until I wanted to kill them…but I stayed calm,”

“How’d you manage that?!” I marvelled. I know Mags, she’s a ticking time bomb. She sighed heavily, her eyes going to her kids again.

“Mikey…” she replied softly. There was a tiny, uncomfortable silence as we all looked at the three cubs. I felt a pang of sympathy for her – how hard this must’ve been… “Anyway!” she broke that one awfully fast. “Finally the month was up and the first test came, when I had to try and change into a wolf in the middle of the day, with the sun on me. I was being attacked by a million of these workers who lived there, and I think I killed loads of them, and being goaded by the most irritating twat of a master I’ve _ever_ met!” she growled, a vein twitching on her forehead. “Seriously…I hated him _way_ more than the others!”

Frank and I both laughed, a bit nervously. “So did you manage it?”

She nodded, drinking again. “Of course I did, do you guys have any whiskey?”

“Sure,”

Frank got up to go find some. I met Mags’ eyes again.

“So you can change into a wolf whenever now?”

She nodded. “At first, only under extreme pressure or anger, like serious amounts of rage, but it’s easier to change now…I just gotta get angry enough, and be in enough pain usually, to shed…I can change back to, which is really easy,”

“Wow,” muttered Frank. “What happened after that?”

“After that came the hard part,” she muttered. “I had to get in complete control, I had to try and stay human through all three of the full moon nights,”

“Fuck,” I whispered. “I thought that was impossible?”

She nodded. “Virtually. There’s been no werewolf alive who managed all three nights on their own…one apparently managed two nights but not the middle night, the strongest night…but there are a small number who managed it with help,”

We waited for her to continue, watching her swig whiskey straight from the bottle. She caught our eyes watching her and grimaced.

“This is the part straight outta Hogwarts,” she said, pushing her hands into the centre of the table. Her glass rainbow beaded bracelets tinkled gently, the silver sun and moon charms glinting. “Remember these?” We nodded, duh, of course we did. She made us silver cages of hair and blood with these charms in them to protect us…

“Ok, so the story goes the silver burns the werewolf flesh. True. The sun and moon hold sway over the changes. True also. Wearing the bracelets helps my temper and self control, most likely true. Turns out there are proper huge charms or patterns that do the same – help control. They showed me all these weird waist coat things covered in designs that were…somehow, relaxing, even to look at. At first, when I was trying to master it, I had to wear all the charms and the clothes, which was so so gay. But they told me in time, I wouldn’t need all of them, just the clothes,”

“So where are they?”

Magenta smirked. “See, that’s the thing. I’m not a guy, or a fifteen stone hillbilly werewolf. I actually _have_ taste and a body I want to make look good. So I took the patterns and designs and…well,”

She stood up, checking the kids for the millionth time, and shed her jacket in one smooth motion. Both Frank and I gasped. She was the inked werewolf. Her arms were coated in intricate thick black lined patterns with bold colours – on one arm I could see a slip of the sun burning gold, with flames spanning her arm to her wrists, with clouds and daisy chains, brilliant rainbow colour swirls and twists. On the other, the tip of a crescent moon – a calming moon rather than a full, lush one – and dazzling purples and dark blues, with stars and green swirls. All over were symbols and shapes like letters woven into the designs, in the lines and colours. 

It didn’t end there though, she pulled off the black t shirt obscuring the rest. The sun and moon spanned her shoulders, one half on her front, the other on her back. In the centre of her chest, her breast bone, a weird symbol dipped and interlaced, joining with the Little Dragon and down, on her stomach with the colours and patterns carving out symbols and shapes in the root like lining. She turned to show us even more on the back, two long passages of symbols and unknown letters spanning her shoulder blades down to her hips, the flames and stars from her shoulders fading to give way.

“I made them cool,”


	5. V

“No, her nose isn’t as pointy as that, it’s more round at the tip,” I said softly, shaking my head. Duke sighed for the millionth time. He reached for the rubber for the millionth time, barely noticing the thing had been worn down to a stump for the millionth time I told him something was wrong. His eyes flickered across the drawing.

“Well, Mikey my mate, how accurate can I be when I’m drawing this from the sketchy details you’re giving me, as I’m drawing them?” he asked, a little tetchily.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “It’s just…it looks so much like her, it feels wrong if it wasn’t perfect, you know?”

Duke sighed. “I never promised this would be perfect,”

I smirked. I knew the guys found it creepy, the split personality thing I seemed to have going. Outside of the training rooms, the pits and the ring – I was the nicest guy on the planet. I laughed, joked, chatted about rubbish and basically was a player down to the core. Once the bloodlust was woken up though, I was a pure monster, a real werewolf beast. And they were scared of that. They’d seen me fight as a human, they’d seen me fight as a wolf, and they’d seen the footage of my Lycan fights…they were scared of _me_. Even Jared, the biggest and oldest of all of us. I didn’t know if I could take them in a fight, but I knew they were scared of me.

I knew why I was dangerous too.

When the wolf takes over, human logic is thrown out the window. Wolf logic runs in the blood, it powers the muscles, laces the veins – drives us. We stop making decisions, we stop thinking in a way. We run on instinct, on the blood. But I didn’t. Somehow, I kept my mind when I turned. I made decisions, I thought about my fights and my attacks. Even with my werewolf bloodlust, the human in me riled for the kill – longed for the fight. I was a violent son of a bitch, and it showed.

When I was in the ring, my human logic overpowered my canine insanity. I planned when to dodge, when to strike, when to slaughter. I made it a sport to kill these wolves, not just a fight.

I knew why I kept my mind as well. It was because of Magenta, and because of the deal I made for her. I had to stay alive, and I had to stay powerful. Some part of me, the quietest part of me, knew it was due to Magenta and her turning me. I knew some of the guys didn’t believe in the mystical bullshit the Canadian wolves believed in, but I starting to believe…when Magenta turned me, she passed something over but she didn’t finish.

The tattoo was still unfinished.

It was like…she had been holding all this energy for me inside of her, and she only managed to past some of it into me before we were interrupted. Before we were torn apart from each other.  It was like…I wasn’t a real werewolf, I was a mutant. But somehow more powerful because of it.

God…Magenta. I hoped she was keeping sane, holding all that werewolf rage inside her, and also caring for our child. The pregnancy must have been hard on her, and the guys…

I refused to let myself grow down because of it, it didn’t solve anything. It only made it harder to continue living, and fighting. I’d get out one day, I knew I would.

“How’s that?” Duke asked, angling the paper towards me. I smiled.

“Much better…”

He was drawing Magenta for me, a tiny piece of her so I had someone to look to at night, when I needed someone else to talk to who wasn’t worried I was about to kill them or something. My wife was relaxed, leaning back, her bare skin creamy white against the black surrounding her…her dreads looped around her.

It sent an ache through me, it looked so much like her.

“You’re so good at this,” I told Duke. “She’s amazing…”

Duke grinned. “Excellent. Well, she’s finished so why not go put her in your room where Kyle won’t wank on her, and pay up,”

I smirked. “Ok, ok, calm down,”

It’s a prison in here. A nice prison, but a prison none the less. It was seem depraved, but I was willing to pay for Duke’s drawing of my wife with a kiss. When I say a kiss…it was the kind that would make Magenta blush, but being in here nearly a year had changed me. I didn’t take most things that came my way, but I occasionally indulged.

Nothing else to do.

I have never cheated, but an animal is an animal.

Back in my room, I locked the door and pinned my wife to the wall. It was three hours until sunset and I was restless, bored and…lonely.


	6. VI

Gerard

 

“So, what now? You’re like the uber mama of wolves?” asked Frank. Magenta snorted, bending down to scoop up the unnamed boy and shush him, the little wolf whimpering in his sleep.

“He has nightmares,” she explained. My attention was pulled.

“How do you know?”

“When he turns, at the full moon…I can understand all of them, they can speak,”

“What does he dream about?”

She hesitated. “He sees his dad dying…at least, someone he thinks is his dad dying,”

None of us said anything, watching Magenta hold the tiny boy closer to her, cupping the back of his head in one hand and supporting him with the other, surrendering her guard to protect him. She kissed the feathery dark hair on his head and laid him back down in the pen.

I could see the rage inside her – she wanted her husband back, and their father.

“I’m sorry, guys, I’m beat – we’ve been travelling for weeks without much rest. I’m gonna check the perimeter and then hit the hay, ok? We’ll finish up tomorrow,” she sighed, her eyes drooping. I nodded and reached over, squeezing her arm.

“Hey,” I whispered. She looked up, those deadly eyes focussing on me. “Come here,”

Magenta Sharp wasn’t a hugger. In fact, her idea of intimacy and affection was usually painful. But at this moment, she was so exhausted and worn out from the whole ordeal, she let me pull her into a hug, Frank cupping us both in a three way hug.

“Thanks guys,” she whispered. “It’s totally shit at the moment,”

Frank snickered gently. “Yeah, and perimeter? What is this, war?”

Magenta nodded, turning Frank’s face to shock. “Yeah…it is,”

We watched her go to each window, approaching it carefully from the side and stare out. Her eyes sucked in the fragile moonlight and shone out a blue sheen – like cats eyes. When she was sure she was safe, she nodded us goodnight and pulled off her jacket and boots. She laid herself down inside the pen nest in the centre of the room and pulled a blanket over her body, her children nestled in the curve of her body.

I pulled Frank away, wanting to give her privacy. We went into the kitchen and shut the door, me pulling Frank closer to me. Watching Magenta depressed motions, a shadow of the powerful girl she once was, made me only crave my baby more.

“Gerard, what’s wrong with her?” he whispered, his face pressed against the crook of my neck. I shrugged lightly, leaning my body against the kitchen bench and wrapping my arms firmly around Frank’s frame.

“She’s…she needs Mikey, and he needs her. Without each other they’re suffering,”

Frank thought about this for a while. “Is it heartache?”

“It’s more than that, baby. It’s…it’s part of their life-force. Did you read that webpage Ray found on Binding?”

Frank snorted, his hands moving down to hook into my back pockets, his body relaxing next to me. He loved hugging me more than anything, feeling safe inside my arms. “Course not, I was too busy playing PlayStation,”

“Why am I not surprised?” I giggled lightly, keeping my voice quiet. “Well, it explained the psychology behind it…it’s a really deep emotional connection. Two people who love each other enough put themselves at risk to join together – one transforms into a beast capable of killing their loved one in seconds, whilst the other bares themselves to it…it’s terrifying, and when it’s done it leaves a space inside each of them which only the other can fill. Then there’s this idea that when a werewolf prepares to sire another, they grow another sort of…essence in them. A secondary werewolf energy, just as fierce and angry and hormonal,”

“Like two Magenta’s in one?”

“Yeah,”

”Jesus, that’s scary…I guess that explains why she went all horny and weird closer to the honeymoon,”

I giggled, continuing to explain. “When the wolf bites their lover, they pass over the secondary energy – turning a human into a werewolf. I think I know why Magenta and Mikey are both suffering as much as they are. It’s not just because they’re sharing a life-force created by Magenta, or because they’re in love – it’s something worse than that,”

“What is it?” whispered Frank, with a slight tremble in his voice.

“It’s…from what Magenta said before she left – she didn’t get to finish sealing their Bonding. She didn’t get to finish his tattoo scar thing…that’s what holds her essence inside him and makes him a werewolf. She didn’t get to finish the ritual, and so what I think’s happened is Mikey only got half, or a little bit more, of the secondary essence. And Magenta’s still carrying more than her fair share of power,”

I felt Frank shiver. “Jesus…if you’re right then she’s even scarier than ever,”

“It’s not just that, baby, you saw her too – her eyes, her skin, her hair. She’s… different. Her hair’s longer, heavier. Her skin’s darker, more taut – like she’s swollen inside from the power. Her eyes…they’re wilder than they should be, she’s breaking apart at the seams with so much raw anger and power…she can’t handle it, it’s wearing her out,”

Frank was silent, thinking about it. “We have to help her,” he said softly. I nodded.

“We will, we’ll get her back to Mikey and they’ll…they’ll work everything out and it’ll be over. Finally,” I sighed heavily. Finally. God, even I didn’t know how much I wanted this entire ordeal to end and for everything to just shift…for everything to stop being life or death, a matter of security…survival of the fittest.

“But what about Mikey?” came Frank’s voice again. “If he’s surviving on half a werewolf essence thing, then why’s he so badass and scary?”

I shrugged again. “If I had to guess…the lack of werewolfish is helping him keep his human mind when he’s changed, makes him plan his fights, react like a fighter instead of an animal…that, and he’s got something, someone, to fight for,”

Frank thought about this again, frowning against me. He pulled back slightly, our eyes connecting. I smiled without feeling the muscles move – his confused brown eyes always make me smile.

“But…if human Mikey is helping win the fights, doesn’t that mean human Mikey’s killing things? Doesn’t that make him even more scary than Magenta? I mean, she’s homicidal, but Mikey’s family, we grew up with him – how can he be good at murder? He’s shit at Halo!”

I pulled Frank back into my hug, not wanting to betray myself but looking in his eyes anymore. I had to lie, to make him feel better about it.

“He’s coping with his loss, I bet. Mikey’s not a killer, but…to keep the one he loves alive, and to make sure he can see her again, he is…and he’s good at it too – for her,”

I knew Frank didn’t buy it, but I couldn’t say it to myself. I didn’t want to admit my little brother was a hot blooded killer, a twisted murderer who was getting better at it every day.

I just couldn’t take that in – I hadn’t even seen my brother with his wolf eyes. All I remembered was the man my brother was waving goodbye as him and Mags drove out of the town. All the years he spent following me around, annoying me and bugging me and teasing me and then through highschool becoming a social starlet, a gossip queen and flat out ignoring me…he’d been through a weird journey and here he was. Blood soaked and deadly.

I couldn’t take it in…I just couldn’t.

“Gerard?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Would you do the same if it were you and me?”

I didn’t have to think about that. “Yes,”

“Really?”

“Yes. A million times yes,” I whispered, squeezing him tighter. He smiled.

“I love you, Gerard,”

“I love you too, Frank…I’m not letting you go,”

“Good…but can you, please? I gotta pee,”


	7. VII

Gerard

 

If Magenta had been tired and worn out last night, you couldn’t tell the following morning. She looked like she could punch through rock, she was so juiced. Everything about her was electric.

The first thing she did was get Ray over to ours and greet him like an old brother as he told her over and over how good she looked and how happy he was to see her. To be honest, we all were – we’d been in a holding pattern for months. With our impassioned leader back, we finally had a purpose and a drive again.

The next she did was get Ray to sit her down and run through every single security feature we had. He had hacked into the CCTV cameras surrounding our building, and installed his own in the sewers and back entrances beneath us, along with a few basic motion sensors. We couldn’t afford anything too scary, but we were managing. After that, he ran her through everything we had on the Hunters Ring. The location and the estimated span of the underground part. The guards and their rotations and routes. The cameras and their spill zones. The motion sensitive lights, the fences and gates, the guns and electric currents. Then came the interior, the clientele and the customers. The car park for the crowd, the stair cases, the air ducts and water mains. The hundreds of cameras linked up to the main core which we knew nothing about. The Ring, all of them. There were three main Rings for moon nights, and then smaller ones for wolf fights. The boxing rings for the human form fights, the gyms, all of it. Everything we had, he showed her.

She was impressed.

“Well done Ray, you’re a genius,” she told him, grinning as she wound her arm over his shoulders and hugged him close. “This is perfect,”

“So what’s the plan?” Frank asked, him and me on the back seat. Compared to Ray, we were useless in the fight to get my brother back. Magenta turned and grinned at Frank, her eyes glowing.

“You guys did good. At first I thought you were idiots for going in, but you seem to be fine…of course, there is the possibly they know what we’re planning and are watching us the same way we’re watching them,”

Ray chuckled. “We thought about that, which is why we tapped every single feed through this entire block and re routed them, making each one was secure. We also fired a magnetic burst through the building so any we couldn’t find were killed. They might be watching us, but they don’t know what we know,”

Magenta looked even more impressed.

“I’m so glad I left you in charge,” she told him.

“I thought I was in charge,” I said, surprised and kinda amused. Ray turned to look at me.

“Ger, you can’t even figure out how to get Frank’s PlayStation working without me,”

I grumbled. “Fine, Ray’s the smart one,”

Magenta stuck her tongue out at me. “It’s ok, Ger, you and Frank are vital too,”

“We are?” we looked at each other, feeling a bit more useful.

“Yeah, you’re better cooks,”

“Oh,”

“I’m joking, you idiots,”

“Thanks so much,” Frank teased, sticking his tongue out. Magenta wrinkled her nose, smiling at us, bending over to pick Callie up off the floor where she’d crawled over to her and gave her a dreadlock to chew on.

“Ok, Ray, pull up the guest list – I need a woman who looks exactly like me,”

Ray clicked his tongue, clicking on a Word document and pulling it up to rest on the third screen.

“Not going to be easy, dreadlocks and piercings aren’t really the dress code, plus you’ve got the eyes,”

“Easily solved – I’ve got contacts,”

“But the hair?”

“Leave that to me, just show me all the women going to this place, there can’t be too many,”

We all chuckled. “Actually, Mags, since Mikey became an icon, the number of women’s tripled,”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Excuse me?”

“Mikey’s a crowd puller, and the girls seem to like the bloodlust just as much as the guys do, and he’s…he’s an impressive looking werewolf,”

“You don’t to remind me, I can remember on my own,” she said in a dangerously low voice. “He boxes, doesn’t he?”

Ray nodded. “Every week, Thursday – his games are always solidly booked, and mostly with women,”

Figures, with his physique and his ruthless nature. Magenta growled low in her throat, making Frank jump. I don’t think she even realised.

“Ok, that’s our best shot for me to grab someone’s identity and get in there,”

“What’s the plan after that? No weapons, no way of getting out – we need a proper plan,”

Magenta hissed gently at my overzealous tone.

“I’ve _got_ one, Gerard,”

“But it’s a concrete fortress! Guards everywhere, with guns and cameras watching every move! Even if we get in, how are we meant to smuggle out a powerful, money-rolling werewolf with every eye on him including all those horny wo-“

I heard Ray yelling before I saw Magenta leave her seat. Next thing I knew, I was lying flat on my back on the table I’d been leaning against. Frank was nearby, yelling, Ray too. Magenta was crouched over me, one of her booted feet too close to the family jewels for comfort. Her hand was latched around my throat, nails cutting into the skin and my windpipe slowly being crushed.

Her face was furious – her eyes rimmed with not one, but two bands of fiery red. She was livid.

“Don’t _ever_ say that again,” she spat. “Don’t ever mention those women _again_ ,” she whispered in the ugliest voice I’d ever heard. Frank was pulling at her, begging her to let go but all the noise faded as she and I stared at each other, her feral eyes burning into mine.

“Ok,” I croaked. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”

The words were barely recognisable, my voice distorted by her fist. She let me go suddenly, as if coming to her senses. She jumped off the table, grabbing my wrist and pulling me upright. I coughed and spluttered, Frank’s hands winding around me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes wide and frightened. “I don’t know what’s been coming over me recently,” she whispered, bending down to pick up the screaming Callie who’d been dropped as Magenta jumped. The child refused to quieten, latching onto Magenta’s neck and howling.

“I’m sorry Gerard,” she repeated, staring at me like she could see her reflection still hissing in my eyes. I nodded.

“It’s ok, I get it…it’s ok,”

She nodded slowly. “I _do_ have a plan,” she promised. “But I can’t tell you guys all now…just in case,” she said, her gaze shifting between all three of us.

I saw irritation flit across Ray’s face, and I knew Frank was tired of this bullshit too, but we all trusted Mags. She wouldn’t let us in over our heads. My throat told me otherwise, but I let it slide. She was trying. Trying to stay in control, stay human.

More than ever, she was struggling with it.

“I’m sorry guys, I wish I could, but I really can’t. I will though, and soon. But first, I’ve got to get in to this Ring and see Mikey…just once more, before…”

“Before we risk our lives for him,” finished Frank softly.

It chilled the air. Magenta nodded.

“I have to…” she looked around at all of us, hoping to see that we understood. “Do you get that? It’s been months…months! I’m falling apart and I just need to see him again, smell him…please,” she begged. “I need help,”

She was almost in tears, the child at her breast screaming still. Ray stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, shushing her. I pulled Frank with me, joining the hug, circling Magenta and her baby close.

“Of course,” Ray answered for all of us. “Of course we’ll help you,”  


	8. VIII

 

Her name was Dominique McQueen and she was an icon. The kind of woman who chooses the name to give the world, is the kind of woman to be frightened of. She was also the kind of woman you didn’t question.

She stalked through the world on 6 inch heels, in glittering colours and styles. She wore seamed stockings with suspenders clipped to the hips of her garter belt. She wore trim black pencil skirts. Tight and restricting. She wore corsets and underbusts and lace gloves. She favoured latex on her night outs, latex and leather and boned satin, velvet, fur. She swept her hair up into a carefully constructed look, and wore funeral hats with wide brims and veils that covered her down to her elbows, obscuring her face.

The embroidered lace of her veils rippled around her as she walked, giving her an air of coldness and power. She was one of those gorgeous women – she rarely spoke to anyone except the attendants she kept close at all times.

She owned a nightclub in the city, a playground for the rich and well known to frolic with the demons of the underworld – men and women costumed and painted to entertain and delight. It was an art house, a dance hall and a burlesque strip club. She was the queen bee.

And she was a regular to the Hunt.

“I bet she’s beautiful,” Mags heard Ray mutter as he brought up a photograph of her sitting on a deep purple leather couch surrounded by identical but gorgeous boys and girls in black suits and white blonde hair, their eyes filled with white contact lens and mouths rimmed in black. The veil hung down her nose, leaving only a slightly open mouth lined in violet lipstick to pout at the camera.

“She looks a bit in love with herself,” replied Mags, sniffing slightly, her eyebrow elegantly raised as she looked over the trim figure of the woman in the picture. “She’s a donor?”

Ray nodded, bringing up a notepad page of details he’d raked together from the Hunt files. Under the list of donors, her name appeared.

“How much does she give?”

He clicked on the hyperlink and a figure appeared. “Nearly fifty thousand a year, and in exchange she has unlimited access to the fights,”

Magenta sniffed. “High price for blood…”

Ray pulled back onto her main page, which held all the details he’d managed to piece together. “They say she never takes the veil off except in the privacy of her own home, or with a partner,”

“Partner?”

“She’s infamously promiscuous,” Ray told her, motioning to the paragraph listing her known lovers and flings. “Rumour is she’s been trying to buy her way into the werewolf cells – get her horny mits on some of the fighters she favours,”

There was a low growl and Ray knew it was Magenta’s throat, even if she didn’t mean it. “I don’t think I like what you’re about to tell me,” she whispered.

Ray shook his head. “No you won’t – she’s a werewolf whore, and she’s a big fan of Mikey’s. It says here it’s very likely she’s finally matched his price,”

Magenta hissed lightly, standing up suddenly and pacing in angry circles, her arms crossed firmly across her chest. Nearby, her children clattered and played with Gerard and Frank – leaving her to punch out and sink her fist into a wall. Everyone jumped.

“Mags – calm down. Mikey won’t submit,” Ray said firmly, reaching over and grabbing her wrist, pulling her back. “This McQueen chick won’t be able to manage him,”

She growled. “If she touches him…I swear to God I’ll kill everyone in there,” she hissed, the two red jagged lines in her pitch black eyes fizzling. Ray turned and watched her pace, her nails pitching at tattooed skin, her knuckles white with anger.

“Are you ok?”

She tossed her head angrily and gave a strangulated groan, her hands slipping to cover her face and weave into her hair, gripping her pounding head. Finally she released herself and came to sit down, groaning heavily.

“Just…frustrated. Ok, so we know this woman is well connected to the Hunt, and we know no one’s exactly sure what she looks like. That helps,”  

“How do you plan to get close to her, Mags? Her house is as well protected as the Hunt,”

To this, the werewolf mother had just smiled and licked her lips.

“We already have her records. Ray,” she said, causing him to look up from the computer. “Find a phone number, and the company of her drivers,”

“Sure, no worries – what are you going to do?”

She smiled. “Get changed, and go out. Can you babysit?” she said, smirking. Ray smirked, his fingers tapping rapidly at the blue tinged keyboard. The light spilled over from the computer screen.

“I guess we can hold down the fort, but what exactly do you plan to do? March up to her in the middle of a club, knock her out and steal her veil? I don’t think you’re thinking this through,”

Magenta clicked her tongue and waggled a finger at her friend, shaking her head.

“You’re not on the same page as me. I’m going to observe her tonight, I need to watch her before I can steal her identity. When the time comes, I’ll need that number and some good luck to pull this off,” she sighed.

Ray bit his lip and pulled up the photograph of the mysterious woman again.

“You’re not kidding…are you gonna tell us the plan, or are you just gonna fill us in on the day?”

Magenta sighed heavily, smirking at the same time. She glanced at the calendar of big red crosses.

“Two days until the boxing match – I promise by then you’ll all know the first bit of the plan,”

“What, the part where you get into the Hunt and get to see Mikey?”

“Yep,”

“What about the rest?”

“You don’t wanna know yet,”

Ray sighed, leaning back heavily. “I hate you sometimes,”

Magenta grinned, leaning over to kiss Ray’s cheek. “Thanks. You get that number, and I’ll go shave my legs,”

“…Ok, gross,”

She totally didn’t get it.

“Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,”

 


End file.
